Author's notes:
Hi everyone. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to once again follow along with my story.
Most of the chapter's down the line that I've pre-written wern't up to scratch, in my opinion. I've spent many days reflecting since I've been away from the story. I recently re-read the whole thing, including the unreleased stuff, and while they generally align with where I wanted the story to go, they just didn't come together as I'd originally intended. Sometimes, when I write, it just flows out, leading my to produce three or four chapters in a burst. Then... I look back over it, while shaking my head, and think... what on earth is this? lol.
Well, that's what happened five or six months ago. I don't know, it's been so long. I'd even forgotten how to traverse through this archaic site, which isn't hard, lol.
If any of you ever feel stuck or in need of inspiration, stepping outside and soaking in the natural world can work wonders. Life itself is a rich and unfolding story, and sometimes, a fresh perspective can reignite the spark of creativity that you may have felt was lost.
Anyway, back to the story:
The following changes have been made in Chapter 9 - Precarious confrontations, after being pointed out by a viewer:
["Moody and Karkaroff in the Great Hall," Harry mumbled.
"What do you think they're up to?" Bella asked interestedly.
"Dunno." He seemed to be fighting an internal battle when he looked up at Bella, before finally speaking. "Want to find out?"]
Has been changed to:
["Karkaroff in the Great Hall," Harry mumbled.
"What do you think he's up to?" Bella asked interestedly.
"Dunno, but the cup's the only thing in there." He seemed to be fighting an internal battle when he looked up at Bella, before finally speaking. "Want to find out?"]
Because the map would obviously show Moody as Crouch— anyone else pick that up? Because I certainly didn't, lol.
Thank you!
Chapter 13 - A Melancholic dance
The side glances and, for some people, absolute disregard in their blatant stares very much reminded Bella of her days after using the killing curse in Moody's classroom. How students, let alone teachers, dare leer at someone who they suspected of being a dark witch completely baffled her.
This time, it wasn't so bad. Bella had given up trying to lay low in a school that constantly seemed to need something to talk about, and she had learnt the hard way that being near Harry meant being at the centre of the gossip mill. Then there was the Slytherin-Gryffindor debate.
Bella sighed audibly, which drew the attention of Professor McGonagall. She stopped waving her hands in a dramatic fashion, probably explaining something, then stared at her pointedly.
"Am I boring you, Miss White?"
"No Professor," Bella replied sweetly.
Even Professor McGonagall had taken to sending quick glances over her spectacles when she thought Bella was not looking. She, along with every other teacher, looked at her like she was a ticking time bomb— all but ready to declare herself a follower of the new Dark Lord Potter— which probably had something to do with the article, though it definitely put Harry more in the spotlight than her.
Professor McGonagall watched closely as Bella transfigured an ancient, neglected book into a mouse on her first try. She wasn't the first Slytherin to do it, but McGonagall's eyes went wide like she was some sort of a prodigy.
Tracey huffed from her left. "How do you always do everything so perfectly?"
"Because I am perfect," Bella responded.
Daphne groaned from her right. Her book had spun and materialised into a book with small, beady black eyes, a tail and whiskers. "Shut up," she mumbled, noticing Bella's stare.
"So…" Tracey said, after she was successful, "is mummy and daddy still fighting?"
Daphne laughed. Bella growled. They no longer cowered during her bouts of rage, instead, it always made them laugh harder— or poke fun at her. Bella covered her face with her hands. "Please, Tracey. Not today."
"Come on, Bella. You still need a date for the Yule Ball," Tracey said. "I always thought it would be Harry."
Bella unconsciously smiled at the memory. Snape had called the Slytherin students to a meeting in the common room after dinner a week ago. Watching the normally strict and no-nonsense man deliver the news of the Yule Ball, his lip curling so far upwards in distaste Bella thought it would surely stay that way, had been the highlight of her week.
"Well what about you?" Bella asked, attempting to change the subject. "Who are you going with?"
Tracey sighed dramatically, raising her palm to her forehead. "No one, yet. I may have to start taking matters into my own hands."
Daphne blew air from between her lips dejectedly. "Me either."
"How about Crabbe and Goyle?" Bella said as seriously as she could without giggling. "Then you can have one each."
Daphne and Tracey both gagged almost simultaneously. "Euch. Don't ever say that again," said Tracey.
"A whole school full of boys and not one is interested. Want to know why?" Daphne asked.
Bella sighed. "Why?"
Daphne picked up the end of her green and silver scarf, holding it in front of her. "This, Bella. This is why."
"And I'm somehow involved in your plan to change that, I'm guessing?" Bella said, already knowing the answer.
"You wouldn't want us to go alone, would you?" Tracey moaned, with puppy dog eyes. "We'd be the laughing stock of the school."
"Just don't go," Bella said nonchalantly. "I'm not— It's a waste of time."
"Said every girl without a date ever," Tracey mumbled.
"Look, we've been thinking… If you take Harry, and word somehow… spreads beforehand… Maybe boys from other houses wouldn't be so… reluctant to take two pretty Slytherin girls," Daphne said hesitantly.
Bella glared at Daphne, though it didn't last when saw that Daphne had adopted the same wide eyed stare as Tracey. "You've both been scheming again." Bella shook her head resignedly. "Why is it always me?"
Daphne turned back to her book-mouse hybrid, then raised her wand and transfigured into a perfect mouse. "You're our only hope, Bella."
Luckily, by lunch, Daphne and Tracey had dropped the subject.
"So…" Tracey mumbled through bites of pork roast. "Do you think they'll cancel the tournament?"
"No," Daphne said, chewing her own piece of meat in a practised manner. "You read the paper. The tournament must go on."
Fudge, the Minister of Magic, had made a big deal about the tournament in the paper, saying that cancelling it would dishonour Diggory's memory. He was of age, he was a willing participant. It had caused some outrage between the different European Magical Governments, though by reading between the lines of the scoop's in the Daily Prophet, the Britain Ministry of Magic, or mainly Fudge, was okay with their student dying— they had one more, after all— so the other Magical Governments begrudgingly agreed for the tournament to proceed.
"I still can't believe it. It's the whole reason the games were cancelled in the first place— why would it continue?" Tracey asked.
"You read the paper. Fudge argues that whereupon a students name comes from the goblet, they are binded with a magical contract, meaning they must compete," Daphne said.
"But what does that mean?" asked Tracey.
"He has to compete. He can't not," Daphne said.
The pair drifted off to silence at their usual spot near the end of the Slytherin table. Bella's eyes drifted around the Great Hall. It was a somber mood— almost as if someone had ripped all the happiness and the joy from the room, leaving lifeless husks in place of the students. The Hufflepuff table, once the most loud and boisterous, was now always silent.
"How is Harry, by the way?" Daphne asked, catching Bella's eyes. "Did you manage to see him at all, since?"
"No," Bella said, sighing. "Until we start our next antidote and have to partner up again, I doubt I will."
"I don't understand," Daphne said. "He told him, what's he worrying about?" Daphne shook her head, "it's not his fault Diggory was cocky and didn't listen to him."
"He doesn't see it that way," Bella said.
"God, lighten up, Daphne. After Skeeter's article, I'd be a tad withdrawn too."
Skeeter had all but accused Harry of planning Diggory's death, and by extension, Bella. Skeeter had used his casting of the conjunctivitis curse and cutting curse to label Harry as the next Dark Lord. It was a front page article, taking up three full pages behind the front.
The pictures that Skeeter had managed to get didn't help matters. In the first, Harry and Diggory's heads were bowed in deep conversation as they left the Hogwarts grounds. In the second, Harry's wand was raised and the dragon's eye popped in an explosion of blood and matter. In the third, Bella and Harry were holding hands, Cedric's beaten, bloodied body behind them. Bella had to admit that to an outsider, if she were one, Skeeter had made a convincing article.
Daphne reached over the table and ran her hand along Bella's arm. "How are you feeling about everything, Bella?"
"Fine," Bella mumbled.
"Like she has anything to worry about," Tracey said with a smirk. "What did Skeeter call you?" She gestured out with her hands, "the Dark Lord's Slytherin princess?"
Bella shivered.
Defence class was after lunch. Moody's attitude, since Diggory's death, had been odd, to say the least. Two days after the task, during their morning class, he had picked up the same Daily Prophet article that everyone else had read during breakfast. He called off the lesson, saying he had other matters to attend to. Most students had let out a cry of joy, but Bella sat and watched him closely as he rummaged through a drawer in his desk, almost in a panic, then found an opaque vial and downed it in one gulp.
Moody grunted from the front of the class to gather everyone's attention. "Aqua Eructo is a spell that creates a powerful jet of water from one's wand. Someone tell me where this would be useful." He pointed at a Hufflepuff boy; "you, boy."
The tall boy shook. "Uh- uh- uh… a duel?"
The Slytherin's sitting around Bella snickered at his response. Moody's eye twitched, then he raised his wand to a window on the castle's wall, letting out a powerful jet of water that resembled a powerful geyser, shattering the window and raining water on the grounds below. "Funny, is it?" He mumbled, eyeing the now silent class. "Just remember— water may be used to sustain one's life," his eyes snapped to Bella, "and can, just as easily, drown another."
"What do you reckon is in that flask of his?" Tracey whispered, during their silent time at Charms class.
"I don't know," Bella whispered back. "Whatever it is, it's new."
"What do you mean, new?" Tracey responded quietly, screwing up her face. "Did you know Moody before?"
Bella's head snapped up at her mistake. "No… I mean… he didn't do it when he started," Bella mumbled out.
Tracey didn't look convinced. Just when she thought Tracey would speak again, a younger Gryffindor student knocked at the door, then at Flitwick's gesture, moved to him and leaned down to give him a note. Flitwick unfurled it and studied the contents, then hobbled to Bella's table, standing on his tippy-toes to see her over the desk. He folded the note and pushed it over to her.
"A letter for you, White," he squeaked.
Miss White
I'd be delighted if you would join me in my office at 8pm after dinner.
The password is the same.
Warm regards,
Albus Dumbledore.
Bella felt like her insides were doing summersaults. She folded the letter and leaned her arms down on her desk, suddenly queasy. She'd known this meeting would come sooner or later, but now that it was here…
Bella felt like she was on trial before the Wizengamot.
Bella's insides had not let up as she watched the gargoyle rise into the alcove bearing the stairs that led to the Headmaster's office. She had skipped out on dinner— so worried about her meeting with Dumbledore. Her stomach seized and groaned uncomfortably and she could feel bile rising in her throat.
Dumbledore was sitting at his desk staring at her blankly behind his clasped hands when she walked in. He gestured towards the chair in front of him with a finger. Bella only just realised she had stopped at the end of the hallway.
"Miss White," Dumbledore greeted, when she sat. "Apologies for the late hour, once again, but I'm afraid it's the only time I, and you, are free."
Bella swallowed roughly. "Apologies are not necessary, Headmaster."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, putting his hands in his lap. Bella copied his movements, though she suspected his hands hadn't started leaking sweat down his wrists. "You seem tense, Miss White." Dumbledore smiled in such a peaceful manner she suspected it could calm a fire-breathing dragon. "Please, relax. You're not in trouble."
Bella played with her fingers under the table. She sent Dumbledore a half smile before speaking. "What would you like to speak about, Headmaster?"
"You seem to be adjusting remarkably to your classes," Dumbeldore said. "For someone who said they were— what was it?" He smiled; "'mostly self taught.'"
Bella nodded in response. Dumbledore continued. "Your core class teachers are amazed by your understanding of the curriculum. Professor Vector in particular would not stop raving about you. Also… Professor Moody seems quite interested in you."
"Thank you," Bella mumbled awkwardly.
Dumbledore squinted his eyes, almost imperceptibly. "However did you learn such things not under the tutelage of a magical school?"
Bella shrugged her shoulders. Dumbledore did not seem to take this as an answer, still staring at her expectantly. "I had a good teacher," Bella said.
"Indeed. Did they go to Hogwarts?"
It was a trap, but she saw no way out of it. "Yes."
Dumbledore smiled. "Another piece I can add to the intricate puzzle. I hope, soon, it's not so black and white."
"Maybe one day," Bella said softly.
"Now," Dumbledore said, sitting up straight. "Onto more… engrossing matters."
Bella tilted her head. "Yes, Headmaster?"
"Your relationship with Gryffindor students… in particular… Harry Potter."
Bella's heart started to pound in her chest. "What about him, Headmaster?"
"You seem to have formed quite the friendship with young Harry." He leaned forward in his seat. "Can I share a secret with you, Miss White?"
Bella nodded. "Ofcourse, Headmaster."
"I find it extraordinarily fascinating," he said softly.
"Why is that?"
"There has always been a strong rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor over the years," Dumbledore said, leaning back as he spoke. "Although… recently… tensions have been particularly high, after the rise and fall of an individual. A once great rivalry that often pushed the two house's to succeed, now… hinders them."
"An individual?" Bella asked, playing dumb.
Dumbledore's face turned impassive. "I think you know very well who the individual is, Miss White."
Bella swallowed at the lump that seemed to be stuck on the back of her throat. "If that's true, then why not get rid of the Hogwarts houses?"
"Like I said before, Miss White, I find that a little competition between houses often pushes students to succeed," Dumbledore answered. "Although, I will not lie to you, I have thought about abolishing the housing system, though something always held me back."
"And what was it that stopped you?"
Dumbledore smiled. "The hat always chooses the right house for the student. It is unbiased— which means whatever goals and aspirations that particular student has, it will put them in a house where those dreams, providing the student tries, will become reality."
Bella went to speak, but Dumbledore held a hand up, silencing her. "Without that drive, pushed by the competition between houses and… camaraderie within their own house, I fear that some may… lack the drive to complete their goals."
"And if their goals are malicious?"
"There's always a black sheep within a herd, Miss White," Dumbledore answered. "But more often than not, the majority, through that camaraderie, will always succeed, given time."
"You seem to have put a lot of thought into this, Headmaster."
Dumbledore chuckled. "That I have, Miss White. Though my time is dwindling. You see… Time is a fickle thing. We don't often realise how little we have of it until we're watching it flash before our eyes."
This conversation was making Bella feel extremely nervous. It was becoming way too dangerous now. "What are your thoughts on the task, Headmaster?" The minute the statement left her lips, she felt like slapping herself. What a way to change the subject.
Dumbledore's face turned solemn. "Cedric Diggory would have been an accomplished wizard, of that I have no doubt. He was idolised by his peers, and, as you know, chosen by the goblet for being the most capable wizard within the school." Dumbledore sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "He will be sorely missed."
"Then why let the games continue?" Bella blurted out, without thinking. It was the first question on her mind. On the one hand, she didn't want the games to continue, as it would most likely mean the Dark Lord wouldn't be resurrected, though for how long?
On the other hand, letting the games continue would mean that she could maybe stop him for good.
Quite the conundrum.
"I may be Chief Warlock, Miss White, but the Minister gets what he wants," Dumbledore answered. "Sometimes, even with how high ranking we think we are, we are but a pawn within someone else's game."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Quite the pair, you and Harry." Dumbledore said, after a long silence."'The next Dark Lord and his Lady'— I must admit, it gave me quite the chuckle when I read the article the next morning."
Bella blanched at the sudden change in subject. She sat up straighter, attempting to disguise her shock. "We're friends," Bella said quickly. "Nothing more."
"I don't think you realise how much Harry relies on you," Dumbledore said. "He comes to you with things he wouldn't even tell me, Miss White."
Bella looked at him suspiciously. "And how could you possibly know that, Headmaster?"
"With… certain events that have happened recently, Harry needs someone he can rely on. He needs someone by his side that will keep him from drifting astray," Dumbledore said, ignoring her question.
"And that's you?"
"No, Miss White. It's you."
Bella didn't know how to feel when she left the Headmaster's office. Their conversations were always so… close to the truth that Bella often wondered if he knew more than he was letting on. But it was impossible— there was no way he could know. Bella would indulge him— he was so obviously digging for information on her past, that he was willing to say anything for her to maybe let slip.
While Dumbledore could potentially be her strongest ally, he was right in saying that time was fickle. Bella didn't know much about time, past or present, and how her actions may affect the past she had been brought into.
Bella tried to think back to the past— but the memories, as she willed them back, felt odd. Bella shook her head and persisted. With everything that came to mind, she didn't think she had caused any major deviations in the timeline— everything seemed to be going exactly how it did in the future— though her timeline of events, due to her time in Azkaban, definitely left a large, gaping portion missing. At least no one had discovered her true identity— that she would protect at all costs.
Bella blew at a lock of hair that had fallen over her eye as she walked through the trophy room. Now that would be a catastrophe.
Bella spun the minute she heard the soft footfalls behind her, her wand coming out instinctively. In the time she had turned and drawn her wand, Harry had pulled his own and disarmed her, extending an arm out and catching her wand with the tips of his fingers as it soared through the air towards him. He smiled at her crookedly and brought both arms down, a wand in each hand. "Hi."
Bella scowled. "Really?" Bella hissed. "That's all you have to say to me after ignoring me for weeks?"
Harry pocketed the wands and rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh… yeah?"
"Not even a thank you, Harry," Bella said scathingly.
"Er… thanks," Harry mumbled.
Bella spun and stalked off, her pony tail whipping back into her face from the opposite direction. She spat out the few strands in her mouth audibly as she walked away. Harry chuckled from behind her. "How did you even know I was here?" Bella asked angrily, hearing him keeping a steady pace on the winding stairs behind her. "Are you a stalker now, Potter?"
"Well… it's nearly curfew. I've come to escort you."
Bella scoffed. "I don't need escorting."
"You weren't at dinner," Harry said, once they had reached the moving stairs of the grand staircase. "You're probably hungry."
Her stomach decided to let out an audible groan at that exact moment. Bella sighed. "Well, there's not much we can do about that now," Bella mumbled, holding her aching tummy.
Harry pushed past her when the staircase they had been waiting for connected with their level. "Well, if you follow me, I can."
He led her down to one floor below the ground level. It was three floors earlier than she'd usually stop to go to the Slytherin common room. They walked through an archway into an 'L' shaped room, then Harry walked right up to a large, door sized portrait, a bowl of fruit the centrepiece.
"Harry?" Bella asked, not hiding the incredulous tone in her voice. "Have you come to show me a painting of food?"
"Just wait," Harry said. He extended a hand and rubbed his fingers along the pears in the bowl, almost as if he was tickling it. The pear squealed with laughter then a handle appeared, which Harry grabbed and pushed forward. The door swung inwards into an extremely large room. There was a pot, as large as a small house, sitting atop a fire. House elves, probably more than a hundred, lined every side and corner in the room, working on benches preparing dough and slicing food that was no doubt for breakfast the next morning. To her right, there were four long tables, identical to the ones in the Great Hall, even spaced correctly. Now, it all suddenly made sense.
"Of course," Bella said. "Of course it's house elves."
Harry led her to the end of a vacant house table, then turned to face her. The house elves that did spot them turned and bowed low, then quickly returned to their tasks. "Yeah… thank Fred and George for this… and Hermione, I suppose."
"Fred and George?" Bella asked.
"Uh… Ron's brother's. They're nothing like Ron," Harry said hastily, no doubt seeing her sour look. "They're just pranksters."
"And that makes it better?" Bella asked, though it lacked venom.
Harry smiled. They sat opposite each other. "Dobby."
An elf materialised out of thin air, standing on the table before them. He wore two odd socks, a comically small nightgown, and what appeared to be a pair of girls underwear atop his head. He rubbed at his eyes sleepily, then upon seeing Harry, his large, black, saucer sized eyes widened, then he bowed on his knees, grabbing fistfulls of Harry's front robe. "Oh, Harry Potter, Harry Potter. Harry Potter, sir, has summoned me!"
Harry's cheeks flushed. "My friend and I have missed dinner, Dobby. Would you mind fetching something for us?"
The elf turned to Bella, its eyes widening, then turned back to Harry. "Of course, of course, Harry Potter sir! I'll fetch something for Master and his Lady at once!"
Harry groaned. "Even house elves have seen that blasted article!"
Bella laughed so hard that tears laced her vision. Harry joined in midway through.
There was a pop, followed by another, then two elves appeared on the floor next to them. It was Dobby, along with a female in normal clothes— a crooked blue hat, a skirt and a blouse.
"Here you are, Harry Potter, sir! As promised, sir!" Dobby placed a large platter of sandwiches onto the table, then the elf beside him, tears sliding down her face, placed another beside it.
"Thanks Dobby, Thanks Winky."
Bella's eyes widened when Winky suddenly burst into tears and sobbed uncontrollably.
"Not a problem, Harry Potter sir!" Dobby said through Winky's sobs, apparently unaffected. "Would there be anything else, sir?"
"Is… Winky going to be alright?" Harry asked.
Dobby turned to Winky and patted her on the back, smiling. "Of course, Harry Potter, sir! Winky is still sad about Mr Crouch, sir. Winky just needs to see that Hogwarts is a great place to work, sir."
Winky's sobs had persisted so long she went into a coughing fit. Dobby patted her back, though his smile hadn't lessened.
Bella cleared her throat. Harry and Dobby turned to her. "Mr Crouch?" Bella asked.
"Yes, Miss!" Dobby said, continuing to hit Winky on the back. "Winky was Mr Crouch's personal elf, Miss. She was let go, Miss."
"Why?" Bella asked.
"Because I's a bad, bad elf!'' Winky wailed. "Winky was a bad elf! Winky failed, Winky failed Mr Crouch!"
"She was found with a wand— they suspected her of casting the Dark Mark in the sky during the Quidditch World Cup," Harry whispered from over the table.
Bella tensed. Morsmordre was known only by a handful of Death Eater's. If she took herself off the list, it was precious few.
"Winky told him, Winky told Mr Crouch that Winky didn't do it! But Mr Crouch knew! He knew then Winky failed! Now Winky is a disgraced elf! Winky lost him!" Winky squealed.
"Lost who?" Bella asked.
Winky's head snapped up so fast her long ears made a loud, audible slap on her back. Her large brown eyes were wide with fear. She grabbed the end of the table with both hands, leaned back, then knocked her head on the edge so hard she dropped to the floor in a daze.
Dobby smiled crookedly. "Err… Dobby will leave Harry Potter and his Lady now, sir. Dobby is going to look after Winky now, sir." He raised his hand, placing a palm on Winky's back, then with a click of his fingers, the elves disappeared.
Harry was staring awkwardly at Bella after the spectacle. "So… That's Dobby and Winky."
Bella pursed her lips. "So… has Hermione seen this place?" Bella asked, then picked up a half sandwich and ate it in four large bites.
Harry chuckled when she immediately went for the other half, picking up one for himself. "Yeah… she's the one who showed me, actually. She managed to weasel it out of Fred and George."
"Did she… turn any?" Bella said through bites of her sandwich.
"No. They think she's crazy… apart from Dobby. He's being paid by Dumbledore to work here."
"Paid?" Bella asked incredulously. "A house-elf?"
"It's a long story. The short story is I tricked Lucius Malfoy into giving him a sock."
Bella hummed in response. She did vaguely remember Lucius complaining in her time that Lucius had lost an elf. But, like most things Lucius said, it went straight out her other ear.
"How is Hermione?" Bella asked.
Harry scratched his head. "Well… funny, that… I was going to ask you."
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Bella huffed.
"After the whole… Creevey incident, Hermione has said less to me than Ron." Harry sighed. "They threw me a party in the common room after I won. Ron came to me and apologised."
"So you've traded one for the other?" Bella asked. "I much prefer Hermione, Harry." Bella had to catch herself from throwing her hands to her mouth in shock from her own words. She hastily looked at Harry, but he hadn't noticed.
Harry chuckled softly. "Yeah… It's still shaky ground, though. He's still upset with me hanging around with you."
"I… I haven't seen Hermione much. She hardly speaks during Arithmancy," Bella said. "Not since the… task."
There was a long, uninterrupted silence as they continued to eat. When they had each pushed a platter away, Bella broke the silence. "It wasn't your fault," she said softly.
Harry looked to his lap. "I know. It's just… I wonder."
"You wonder what?" Bella asked. "Even if you had told him weeks before he still would have done what he did. Don't you see, Harry?"
"See what?"
"He chose to distract a dragon with a transfigured dog. If he'd have just listened to you, he would have survived."
"But maybe if I'd have told him earlier, I could have—"
"You survived." Bella said, firmly. "You have another task to worry about, so stop sooking."
"I guess," Harry mumbled.
Bella drew a deep, calming breath, mustering her courage. "Speaking of the tournament— I think it's time we figure out who put your name in and for what purpose."
Harry finally looked up. His eyes were glassy. "Karkaroff," Harry said so confidently Bella almost believed him without reason. "It's definitely Karkaroff."
Bella shook her head. "He gains nothing from your name being put in," Bella reasoned. Karkaroff was nowhere to be seen in the future. Bella had no doubt in her mind he wouldn't ever try to help with the resurrection of the Dark Lord— not after his betrayal.
"But he was a Death Eater," Harry said, as if that ended the discussion.
"So was Snape," Bella said. "And he's a Professor at Hogwarts."
Harry's eyes widened. "Snape was a Death Eater?" Harry roared.
Bella sighed. "That's public knowledge, Harry," Bella said softly.
"Well then it was him," Harry said determinedly.
"I don't think so," Bella said as placidly as she could. "He's shown no interest at all, Harry. Others have been more suspicious." She didn't know whether it was Snape, but having Harry acting weird around a Professor wasn't something she needed right now.
Harry threw his head back, his hand on the bridge of his nose. "How do you know all this stuff, anyway?"
"I grew up in the magical world, Harry," Bella said, when Harry had looked at her for an answer. She smiled. "I went the opposite way around."
Harry chuckled. "Did you enjoy the muggle world?"
"Yes," Bella said, without any hesitation. "I loved shopping trips," Bella blurted out meekly.
Harry chuckled. "You're such a…" Bella stared at Harry oddly after he stopped speaking mid sentence. His eyes went unfocused, then he looked down, his shoulders raised and lowered as he took a deep breath, then he stared back up at her determinedly.
Bella furrowed her brows. "I'm such a what?"
"Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"
Bella felt her cheeks go warm. It was a waste of time— their time was better spent researching how the Dark Lord resurrected himself and who had put his name in, especially now that she had broached the subject with Harry. But… It was just one night. Anytime spent together was progress.
"We're figuring out who put your name in, then we're figuring out if that somehow relates to your dream," Bella said, attempting to distract her traitorous body. "I think someone may be trying to resurrect the Dark Lord though you, Harry, somehow through the tournament."
Harry's face fell. He stared back down at his lap, his cheeks mirroring hers.
Bella sighed. "Harry," she said softly.
"Yeah?"
"Okay."
"Really?"
"Yes. And give me back my wand."
"So you did it, then?"
Bella looked up from her Arithmancy homework that Professor Vector had assigned her personally— twelve inches on how numbers could be used to predict the future— and sent Draco a blank look. "Did what?"
The fourth year Slytherin's had gathered around the central table next to the fireplace and took up the nearest two couches, apart from Daphne and Tracey, who were also on the table. "Did he say yes?"
Bella exhaled slowly. "Yes."
Draco nodded, then stared into space. The other fourth year Slytherin's looked between them weirdly, no doubt attempting to decipher their conversation. "How did you know that?" Bella asked.
"There'll be an article on it in this morning's paper. Didn't expect you to go public till the day," Draco said, shaking his head.
Bella frowned. "How do you know it's going to be in the paper?"
"My father."
"Wait— how does the paper even know that?" Bella said, raising her voice. "We haven't told anyone, let alone reporters for the Prophet!"
"Maybe he's not as tight lipped as you thought. He's always been an attention seeking brat."
Bella fell silent. "Wait. What the hell are you two talking about?" Tracey asked.
Theodore, who had previously been very interested in a thread that was poking out from the armchair of the couch, raised his head. "The ball. They're talking about the Yule Ball," he mumbled.
Pansy narrowed her eyes. "You asked Potter, didn't you?"
Tracey squeed from her left. "You asked Harry?" she yelled.
Bella felt her cheeks reddening. She cleared her throat before answering. "No; he asked me."
"You said yes, ofcourse?" Daphne asked, leaning forward in her chair.
Bella took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before answering. "Yes," she answered with an air of indifference.
"This is perfect. This is— this is potions all over again," Theodore said. He stood up, shaking his head vigorously. He had their attention now. "I was just about to ask you, Bella!"
Even Pansy, who Bella knew wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut at Draco's revelation, had leaned back into her seat and was watching with wide eyes. "She's going with Potter, Nott. So shut up," Draco said, glaring at him.
"First Daphne, then Tracey, now Bella!" He raised his hands to his head, pulling the skin of his forehead back and digging his nails into his skin. "What the hell is happening?" he asked, looking at Draco. "What's got into you?"
They were starting to gather a crowd. Even with Draco's not so secret influence, other years had stopped what they were doing and stared brazenly. "Wait— why did you emphasise my name?" Tracey asked, glaring at him. "Because I'm not a pureblood?"
"Of course," Blaise added, a conniving look on his face. "Nott is shallow, after all. He wouldn't court someone with a lesser status than himself."
Theodore turned to him, furious. "Like you'd do anything different, Zabini," he spat. "Like any of us would ever do anything different!"
There was a crack in Blaise's confident demeanour. It was so quick that anyone who blinked or wasn't paying attention would have missed it. "Well… with news of Bella's… extracurricular activities… I will admit that yes, she is a pureblood, but she's not from Slytherin."
Everyone, including Blaise, glanced at Draco. Draco either didn't hear him or had no comment on the matter. Theodore's growl broke the silence. "This is what I'm talking about! Slytherins are meant to stick together." He glared at Tracey. "And you should have been glad to take my hand."
Tracey looked down to her lap. Bella felt her blood boil. "I'd be very careful with how you speak to Tracey, Theodore. I'm a Half-blood and I've been adopted by muggles."
Theodore frowned at the statement. "Well I didn't know that."
"Did you ask?" Bella countered.
"Who'd want to go with you anyway, Nott?" Daphne sneered.
"Harry asked," Bella butted in, unable to help herself.
Theodore bristled under her gaze. "Well who is everyone else going with, then?" he asked, sweeping his eyes over the group.
Pansy suddenly grabbed Draco's arm and held it along her front. Draco, this time, didn't pull away. "Draco ofcourse," she said proudly.
"I'm going with Goyle," Millicent said meekly. Goyle grunted from his position next to Draco, but Bella noticed a smile on his face. Bella idly wondered if Goyle or Crabbe could speak. To this day, she had never heard them utter a word— or maybe she just hadn't paid enough attention.
All eyes turned to Daphne and Tracey. "A Beauxbatons boy asked me," Daphne said.
"Er… no one yet," Tracey added, when she noticed their stares. "Uh… What about you, Crabbe?"
Crabbe gestured with his finger to a younger girl on the other side of the room who was packing her bag with textbooks for the start of classes. She was a tiny thing, and even with Crabbe sitting down, Bella knew her head would only just reach his shoulders. Blaise patted his back awkwardly from beside him. "Well, uh… good for you, big boy."
Theodore apparently had enough. He grabbed his bag then angrily stood, stalking out the entrance of the common room and into the castle. After a brief pause, they all stood, taking his queue, and left for breakfast.
"So who's the boy?" Bella heard Tracey ask, crunching on some toast. "And why didn't you tell us?"
"I don't know," Daphne responded airily. "He knows where to meet me and what time to collect me. He only asked me last night. I was going to tell you both today."
Tracey giggled. "It's not a transaction, Daphne."
Daphne giggled along with her. "I know. He's nice and… well… quite handsome, too."
Bella threw the paper down that she had been briefly glazing over while Daphne and Tracey spoke, frowning. "Draco was right," Bella mumbled distractedly.
"How did they know anyway?" Tracey asked. "Did Harry spill the beans?"
"No— he wouldn't," Bella said.
"Then how could Skeeter possibly know?" Daphne asked, picking up the paper and reading it. "There's no other explanation."
"I'll ask him after Potions," Bella said, sighing.
But Bella didn't have to wait until the end of their last lesson for the day, because Harry, instead of walking to his usual spot beside Hermione and Weasley, made a beeline for her at the back of the class. Bella watched him confusedly as he walked towards her and over his shoulder student's mirrored her sentiments— even Snape was watching, though his gaze was indifferent. It was an odd occurrence, after all. They hadn't started their next antidote brewing, and coupled with the paper from this morning, it was fuel to the fire.
"Quiet!" hissed Snape, silencing the hushed whispers that had echoed through the stone walled classroom. He pursed his lips. "Now that our… newest celebrities have apparently found their seating, we will begin."
"Did you tell someone?" Harry whispered, when Snape had finished his lesson and they were allowed quiet time to finish their essay.
"No!" Bella whispered back, heatedly. "I didn't— did you?"
"No… then what happened exactly?"
"I don't know, Harry. But if you didn't say anything, then Skeeter, or an informant, was in the kitchen with us. At some points she quoted us word for word."
Harry titled his head. "You reckon an elf blabbed?"
"House elves don't blab," Bella whispered back.
"Well I didn't see anyone in there with us," Harry muttered.
"I know," Bella said, turning her face skyward in thought.
"Silence!" Snape shouted from the front of the classroom.
A glass inkwell shattered from a row in front of them at Snape's yelled instruction. Bella looked up— it was Neville's. The nervous boy had no doubt jumped in fright. The ink had started to seep into his robes near his foot, and when Neville bent hastily to pick it up, Snape halted him.
"Leave it, idiot boy!" Snape barked from the front of the classroom, his face twisted in fury. "You can clean it up in your own time after the class has finished. Fifty points from Gryffindor!"
When the class ended, Bella watched from her desk as Harry attempted to console Neville as he picked up the shards with his broken hands. It was a simple spell— reparo — but Snape obviously had no intention of teaching it to him, for he had stalked into his office at the sound of the bell. She could walk over and cast the spell herself, but Hermione and Weasey were there, watching but keeping their distance, and for some reason Bella's inside's twisted uncomfortably whenever she looked at the bumbling boy.
Daphne and Tracey joined her at the rear most table when they noticed she hadn't followed the rest of the student's out of the classroom. "What do you think is wrong with him?" Tracey asked, following Bella's line of sight.
"If I hadn't witnessed him turn that hedgehog into half a pincushion the other day, I'd swear he was a squib," Daphne said.
"He's not a squib." Bella sighed. "He's just… had a rough upbringing."
"Yeah, we've heard the stories. How do you know them?" Tracey asked.
"We spoke in the carriage on my very first day. And he… comforted me after the… incident," Bella said, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.
The pair's curious eyes widened in understanding. "He's not so bad," Bella continued.
"Why don't one of them just use reparo?" Daphne asked.
"Maybe to keep his dignity intact," Tracey offered.
"That boy has no dignity left," Daphne said, her tone judging.
Bella stood, unable to watch the sight before her any longer. She wanted to speak to Harry, but with Neville and the golden duo nearby, she had lost all her nerve. "Let's go."
Theodore was pacing along the hallway outside the door of the classroom. He looked up when they walked through the door, then he stopped pacing. There was a gleam in his eye; Bella unconsciously reached for her wand when he approached them.
"Look; I'm sorry, Trace. I really want to go with you to the ball."
Tracey looked at him defiantly. "I already told you, Theo. No; not after today."
"Will you take a hint, Nott?" Daphne said angrily.
"Really?" Theodore asked, then smiled awkwardly. "We've had years of friendship… Surely you can forgive me?"
"We had years of friendship, but friends don't insinuate the other has dirty blood."
Bella felt Harry's side brush hers as he squeezed out the door from behind her. Tracey moved to let the others through— Weasley and Hermione walked off to the side, then Neville stood next to Tracey, blood from his hands dropping steadily along the cobblestone floor. He raised his head defiantly. "L-leave her a-alone, Nott," Neville stuttered, surprising Bella.
Theodore's wand was out in a flash. It was really a testament to his stupidity, for six wands were suddenly pointed back at him in response. He dropped his wand, then looked at Tracey defiantly. "Well then, who are you going to go with, Tracey? Going to be a spinster?"
"I'm going with Neville," Tracey said. Bella's head whipped around so fast she heard her ponytail wack Harry in the face. Tracey had looped an arm around Neville's bloodied arm. Neville's face was perhaps the most surprised of all.
"That right?" Theodore asked.
"That's right," Tracey said confidently.
Theodore shook his head, then turned and trudged up the stairs, not sparing them a glance.
Harry was making repeated spitting sounds from behind her. "That tail is lethal," Harry mumbled.
Bella ignored him. Tracey pulled away from Neville hastily. "Uh, thanks… Neville," Tracey said softly.
Neville seemed to finally gain his bearings. The surprised look on his face disappeared, now replaced with determination. "I-I'll pick you up from your c-common room then, Tracey."
"Oh, um. Okay," Tracey said, her cheeks pink.
Neville's face lit up. He left not long after, following Theodore's exit, perhaps to stop Tracey from backing out of the transaction. Harry came around and faced the Slytherin girls, and Weasley and Hermione watched him, baffled looks adorning their faces. This is an odd day, Bella thought, shaking her head.
"You've done it," Hermione said. It took a moment for Bella to realise the voice was Hermione's, as she hadn't heard it in a long time. She never even spoke during classes anymore, and Bella hardly saw her in the library— Bella was there most nights. Hermione raised her head and stared at Bella in wonder. "You've really done it, Bella."
"Done what?" Bella asked, confused.
"You've single handedly united the houses!"
Bella shifted uncomfortably under everyone's gaze— especially Weasley's, as his usual glare of hatred was now replaced with a blank look— it was freaking her out. "I'm going to the Yule Ball with Harry, so what?"
"No… Don't you see?" Hermione asked in amazement. "Your relationship with Harry has united Slytherin and Gryffindor in ways that Hogwarts hasn't seen in many, many years! This anomaly is something you can only read about. Just this morning we saw two first years walking together— a Slytherin and Gryffindor!"
"Only you could reference a book in that speech, Hermione," Weasley said with a lopsided smile.
"Oh shut up, Ronald," Hermione bit back, but there was not an ounce of venom in her tone.
"It's true. That Beauxbatons boy would have never approached me without you. He admitted to me that he had asked around, but most told him not to come near a Slytherin. Only your photos in the paper and seeing you guys together around Hogwarts gave him the courage," Daphne said.
"We told you the other day, Bella. You were our only hope," Tracey said, smiling at her.
"She's your hope?" Harry asked. "It's nice to have the fate of the world off my shoulders, then."
His green eyes met her brown. "You have no idea, Harry."
Bella analysed herself in the floor length mirror in their shared dormitory for what felt like the tenth time. It was the first time she had properly looked at herself since briefly seeing her new reflection in the glass at Jimmy Kiddell's Wonderful Wands since her entrance into the magical world, other than brief glances in the bathroom as she tied her hair in the mornings.
The reflection that stared back at her no longer felt foreign. It didn't take much getting used to, as she hadn't changed much in her appearance. She had tied her hair into a simple, high ponytail, letting her immaculately straight hair, thanks to magic, flow down her back and over her dress. The dress in question, a grey, flowing dress that ended at her ankles, tapered along her sides at the back, exposing a large portion of her skin. The dress was extremely tight fitting at the top, something Bella had initially thought was scandalous, as it conformed around her breasts and left nothing to the imagination, but with her time in the muggle world, Bella knew this dress was extremely conservative. Bella looked down at herself oddly. She couldn't remember a time when she was this plump— she could hardly remember anything anymore.
"We get it, Bella. They're big," Tracey said from her bed. "Stop rubbing it in."
Bella looked down to her boots— the very first pair of shoes Margaret had insisted she buy from the shops. It was lucky she even packed a dress to begin with. Bella had stared at the book list oddly when she reached the bottom.
"What's the matter, love?" Margaret asked.
"My book list says I need a dress suitable for a formal dance, but it must be a mistake," Bella said, folding the paper and putting it back into the envelope. "Why would I need a dress for school?"
"For a formal dance, obviously," Margaret said, smiling at her.
"Funny," Bella mumbled. "Well I think it's a mistake."
"For a school that supposedly provides all course material, including uniform, a dress doesn't seem like much of an ask," Margaret said.
Bella tore her gaze from Margaret. It was getting harder and harder to lie to her. "Well I'm not bringing one," Bella said defiantly.
Margaret sighed breathily. "You remind me of our daughter, you know— so defiant. Once she set her mind to something, she wouldn't stop until she got it. But let me tell you something, Bella. For all that strength and courage, even she could be blindsided by her own determination. For her last goal, she could never complete; and it ruined her."
Bella looked up and stared at Margaret oddly. This was the most she had ever said about her late daughter since breaching the subject one of the nights she comforted Bella with her night terrors. "What happened?" Bella probed.
"She was blinded by her own desire to fit in," Margaret muttered, shaking her head. She rose to her feet and left Bella sitting alone at the dining table. Bella stared at the doorway she had abruptly left through oddly. Just when she was about to get up and turn the telly on, Margaret returned with a grey, flowing dress on a green cushioned hanger. She held it up high for Bella to see in its glory. "Do you like it, love?" Margaret asked.
It was… it was nice, Bella thought resignedly. It looked to be her size, but it was…. decidedly muggle. Bella smiled— she was wearing sweatpants, a loose fitting singlet, and the comfiest pair of slippers she had ever worn. 'Lounge wear,' Margaret had called it. Everything she wore these days was 'decidedly muggle.' "It's beautiful," Bella said— and she meant it.
"Well try it on then," Margaret said, handing it to her.
Bella was so comfortable around Margaret she shimmied into the dress in the lounge room. Margaret smiled from behind her as she looked into her reflection in a mirror. "So beautiful, Bella."
Bella saw her cheeks go pink in the reflection. "Do you think so?" Bella asked, leaning back and spinning on the spot.
Margaret laughed. "Yes, love. And you know it. A young boy will surely be eating out of the palm of your hand."
Bella frowned. "Boy?" Bella asked incredulously. "Why would I need a boy?"
Margaret shook her head, a smile adorning her face. "I don't think you'll ever need a boy. I think you'll want a boy. You're a strong girl, love. But it's a lonely world without someone by your side."
"So I can clean up after him like you do with Lionel?" Bella asked, smiling.
Margaret laughed heartily. "Lionel has his weaknesses, but in things that I struggle with, he's there, pushing me away and taking the fall for me," Margaret said, after she had finished laughing. "Oh; and wear your favourite boots; they'll look lovely with the dress."
"Bella?" Daphne asked, pulling her from her reverie. "Move over, you mirror hog."
By the time Bella had complimented Daphne's ensemble, a white, extravagant dress that fanned out around her ankles, and Tracey's, a simple but beautiful purple dress that ended at her knees, it was time to walk to the front entrance and meet their dates. Neville and the Beauxbatons boy looked up when they passed the entrance. Bella politely excused herself from Tracey and Daphne and left for the Entrance Hall; her agreed meeting point with Harry.
When Bella reached the Hall, Bella looked around weirdly. The other champions were here with dates Bella didn't recognise, along with McGonagall. They all looked up and stared at her oddly. "Over here, Bella," Harry called from behind her.
Bella turned around and spotted Harry sitting on a stone bench in a corner tucked away near the stairs. He stood when Bella approached him and smiled at her. He was in green wizard formal dress robes, which was odd. By what Harry was telling her, he had nothing to do with the wizarding world in his non-school time. "You're wearing a wizarding suit," Bella pointed out.
"Well, yeah… Ron's mum bought it for me. She handles my book list at the start of every term. My muggles laughed at me when I told them I needed one," Harry said, bowing his head.
"Um… it's nice."
Harry looked up. His cheeks were red, mirroring hers. Bella had long given up with fighting her blushes these days. "Yeah… muggle dress. Very, uh…" he swallowed audibly, "nice too."
"So, do you know how to dance?" Bella asked, trying to change the subject. She suspected her whole body had gone red, now. And with the dress exposing a lot of skin, she would be unable to hide it. Bella hated how her traitorous body would always react.
"Not really," Harry said. "Do you?"
"Of course," Bella said. "But you're the man, Harry. You have to lead."
"Who cares who leads?" Harry asked.
"I do. Everyone does. You could have told me you didn't know how to dance. We could have practised. Did you not practise?"
"Well, yeah, I suppose. We had a single lesson on it. I danced with a few girls and Professor McGonagall."
"Gryffindor had a lesson on it?" Bella asked, between bouts of quiet laughter. "And how did it go?"
Harry smiled at her. "Well you better hope it went well, because all three champions and their initial dance open the ball."
Harry held his hand out. Bella slipped hers into his without even thinking. Harry led them to McGonagall, who was gesturing at them to move towards her. "You're telling me this now?" Bella hissed.
Harry looked over at her and smiled awkwardly. "At least you know how to dance."
The Great Hall had been magically expanded to ten times the size it was previously. Circle tables were set uniformly along the sides of the hall, but they left a walkway wide enough for the champions to walk through for their main entrance. At the back of the hall, the tables ended, then a large wooden dance floor preceded a raised stage with a band perched on top. There was a rectangular table below it; the Headmaster's of the school watched on, along with Bagman, and enough seating was vacant by their sides for the champions and their dates. It was already dark outside, but the charmed ceiling for once didn't emulate the current conditions of the night sky. Instead, the hall was bathed in a pleasant white light, almost as if it was snowing and the glare of the sun created a white, hazy, but ethereal glow. The white tables, chairs and stage only added to the ambiance.
Bella didn't think anyone could have beat McGonagall's disbelieving stare as they walked hand in hand towards her. But as she walked towards the dance floor with Harry, Bella was keenly aware that every eye was on them. Not even the quidditch star Krum, or the Veela Delacour, could compete with their apparent fame.
Dumbledore stood from the centre of the table and raised his wand to his throat. "And now, if you would please give a round of applause to our champions and their dates, they will now open the ball with the first dance," Dumbledore boomed, his voice magically amplified.
"Sorry if I embarrass you," Harry whispered. He placed an arm on her waist and took her left hand in his.
Bella placed her other hand on his shoulder, then leaned in to whisper to his ear. "I've never really cared about what others think, Harry."
It was a slow, mournful song. It was an odd dance to open a ball with, but it seemed to make it easier on Harry. Bella caught him sending quick glances at the other champions and adjusted his lead accordingly. Bella was glad she had chosen to wear closed toe boots when Harry's hooves trot on hers for the fifth time, always eliciting a sharp breath from her. But to his credit, he wasn't doing that bad.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, after he caught her roughly when his foot had forgotten to move, nearly tripping her over.
"It's okay, Harry."
Dumbledore was the first to join them, holding McGonagall's hand high as he walked to the middle of the dance floor. Before long, the tables were empty and they had to fight for space.
After the third song, Bella let go of Harry and walked to the shared table of the judges and champions. Bella sighed when she found her name tag on the table and saw who was next to her— a 'Percy Weasley.' Whatever she did she could not seem to escape them. Krum was on Harry's left.
"What's with these Weasley's and their incessant need to breed?" Bella asked, screwing her face up. "How many of them are there?"
Harry laughed. "Seven."
"Why is it always seven?" Bella mumbled.
"It's a lucky number, 'spose," Harry answered. "As us muggles would say, anyway."
"It's not just lucky with muggles. It's been proven by Bridget Wenlock to be the most powerful magical number."
"Yeah?" Harry asked, though he didn't seem interested. "Done some research?"
"In Arithmancy. It's proven— I've done the calculations. It's to the point where if you've done something six times, you may as well do it another time for the added influence of the ancient magic."
Harry smiled at her. "I get it Bella. You're great at Arithmancy. Hermione's still sore that you show her up every class. She can't handle that there's another girl that knows more than her at something."
"Can I tell you a secret?"
"Hmm?" Harry mumbled in response.
"Hermione's terrible at Arithmancy."
Harry laughed. "That's a secret I'll take to my grave."
After the fourth song, everyone hurried back to their seats for dinner. Dumbledore picked up a menu from the table and read the name of a dish out loud, then the others followed suit. Plates started to materialise in front of them and the other tables as others caught on.
"I don't recall seeing you before with Harry. Who are you, if you don't mind me asking?"
Bella scowled at her plate. She took a deep breath, relaxing her features, then turned to the Weasley boy. "Bella White, a pleasure," she said sweetly— too sweetly. Any reasonable person would take the hint of her unwillingness to talk.
The boy held his hand out and Bella reluctantly shook it. "Percy Weasley, as I'm no doubt sure young Harry has already let you know."
"He hasn't," Bella lied. Percy frowned. "And what are you doing up here, exactly?"
"Filling in for Mr Crouch, of course. I'm now the head representative for the games from the office of the DIMC, which is shorthand for the Department of International Magical Co-operation, in Mr Crouch's absence."
"What happened to Crouch?" Bella asked.
Percy frowned. "Mr Crouch. He's currently on stress induced leave."
Bella furrowed her brows as she looked at her meal— she'd opted for the pork chops simply because she was so taken aback by Dumbledore shouting his own order that she had echoed the sentiment in confusion.
Bella closed her eyes tight. She remembered Crouch… But she still couldn't place him.
Then it hit her.
"Bellatrix, come."
The Dark Lord gestured to the living room of her house. Her husband Rudolphus went to follow, but the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eye halted him in his tracks. He bowed low, then turned and left.
"You've heard the news, I suspect?"
Bella went to fall on her knees in respect, but the Dark Lord captured her chin in his palm before she could. He rubbed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, staring deeply into her eyes. Bella felt herself shiver.
"Ofcourse, My Lord," Bella said breathily.
The Dark Lord smiled, then lifted a perfectly manicured brown eyebrow. "You know what's required of you?"
"Always, My Lord."
He smiled, then his brown eyes narrowed. "His latest appointment has hindered things, I must admit. But he doesn't know that I will always have the last laugh. Do you know why that is, Bella?"
Bella did not answer. Bella knew which questions to answer and which were rhetorical. She had learned that the hard way.
"I have his son."
The Dark Lord sat on her leather couch gracefully. His body language was always so fluid and calm in nature, but Bella knew his might. "I will admit that Crouch has been a thorn in our side since his latest appointment. He climbed the ranks quickly within— even my spies within the Ministry could not fathom his appointment as the head of the DMLE." He leaned back on the couch, crossing his leg over one knee and spreading his arms out along the backrest. His nostrils flared. "He has thwarted our attempt to take over the Ministry for the last time, Bella. Tonight, he will lose the last thing he holds dear."
Bellatrix swallowed roughly. "Do you think, My Lord, and please forgive me, but won't that strengthen his efforts?"
The Dark Lord's lips curled into a smirk. "Don't ever forget this, Bella." The Dark Lord gestured for her to come to him. She fell to her knees between his open knees. His hands caressed her cheeks, then he grabbed them gently, raising her eyes to meet his "Seek not to break a man with your own sordid malevolence. For to truly break a man, their mind must be attacked by their own thoughts."
"I will not fail, My Lord."
"See that you do not, Bella." The Dark Lord threw his head back, deep in thought. "Bring Barty; I suspect he will… enjoy the task at hand."
By the time she had fetched Barty, the moon had passed the apex in the sky. The Dark Lord's assessment proved accurate. Barty seemed to be all too enthusiastic to kill his own mother.
"Are you sure he won't be home, Barty?"
Barty's eyes widened slightly, then he grinned. A trademark of his mentally unstable persona. "Of course, of course. He usually sleeps at the Ministry; he was always on call."
Barty showed her the address on a slip of paper as they walked down a gravel path surrounded by trees. No light shone through the windows when they approached the large wooden mahogany doors of the manor. Bella turned to Barty at the entrance. "Wait outside, Barty. You've spoken of no quarrels with your mother."
Barty's smirk faltered. It was slight, but Bella had caught it. "No. His will must be done. My father must suffer."
"In and out, Barty; do you understand?"
"I understand."
"And our escape plan?"
"Apparate away. You know the address. The Fidelius charm will allow you so."
Barty knew the way through the darkness of the halls. She was sleeping peacefully on her bed. Barty walked over and caressed her cheek.
"Fool!" Bella hissed. She raised her wand quickly. "Step away, Barty!"
Barty had only moved two inches before all the lanterns in the room suddenly ignited. Bella's eyes closed in reactionary shock. There was a crash; Bella felt her way out of the doorway and leaned against the wall.
"Your own mother, boy?" a voice roared. "This nonsense has gone on long enough! It's time I taught you a lesson, boy! Crucio!"
The pained scream was something Bella never thought she'd hear from the Crouch scion; though it didn't last long. Soon, it was replaced with manic cackling.
"You- you've d-deided to come home now, f-father?" Barty said between bouts of torturous laughter. "T-too little t-too late!"
Bella's wand was missing. She risked a peek. Barty's mother was frantically pulling at his father's arm, but it remained steadfast. Her wand was lying near the twitching form of Barty.
"I will not stop. Do you hear me? This master of yours will never win. I won't rest until he's dead. Where is he?"
"I will never betray my master!"
Barty Senior pushed Mrs Crouch off him then approached Barty. He raised his foot then brought it down on his knee. The resounding crack could only be bone. "Tell me!"
"Never!"
"When this is all over, when he is dead, you'll see. I won't turn you away, son. But you must return to me."
"Never…"
"I love you, my son. I always will. Everything I do is for you."
"Then s-stop torturing m-me!"
"You're mine! Not his! You are sick and I will fix you; but you have to come back to me!"
Mrs Crouch had gained her bearings. She ran to her bedside and fetched her wand. Barty Senior was blasted into the furthest wall. Bella took this as her cue— she dived forward, picking up her wand, and just as she felt the threads of Barty's robe touch her outstretched fingertips, she apparated them both away.
Bella stared up at the star laden sky, dropping her head roughly on the grass behind her. Barty's mad cackle echoed through the plains. The Dark Lord would not be happy.
Bella's head strained at the memory. She felt like someone had placed a ten pound weight on her head. She sent a quick glance to her left and right— no one seemed to notice her apparent agony.
Bella shook her head above her plate. There was no way that man was on stress induced leave. His mind was unbreakable, for insanity had already taken over— just like his son. The Dark Lord, in all his supposed infinite wisdom, was wrong.
By the time she had recovered, she took to tapping her foot impatiently as she watched Harry pick up his plate and lift it to his lips, licking the remaining gravy that had collected around the rim. When his tongue reached the apex, Harry's eyes caught hers. He stopped abruptly.
"Are you an animal?" Bella said disapprovingly.
Harry put down his plate then lifted a napkin to his lips. "I told you how little they fed me, Bella."
"Terrible; truly, Harry," Percy said from her side.
The band started to play a slow dance. There was no one on the dance floor. Thinking quickly, Bella grabbed his arm and pulled him up violently. She didn't stop till she had him in the middle of the dancefloor— away from prying ears. She placed her hands around his neck and started to sway softly to the music. Harry mirrored her movements but with his hands on her waist.
"Uh… Bella?"
"Have you thought anymore about who entered you within the tournament?"
"Uh… No…"
"Has anyone been acting weird around you?"
"No."
"Have you had any more dreams, Harry?"
"No."
Bella sighed.
"Hey Bella?"
"Hmm?"
"Why are you trying so hard to help me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know… you sorta came out of nowhere… I feel like… you… you know things."
"I'm just trying to help my friend, Harry. And friends believe their friends. You told me the Dark Lord is back and I believe you. And I know you didn't put your name in that goblet. It's not you."
They silently swayed to the music in their silence. Harry let out a sigh. "So you think it's all connected, then?" Harry asked. "You think whoever put my name in is trying to somehow resurrect Voldemort?"
Bella shivered. "Why else would someone do it?" Bella asked, when she regained her bearings. "It's just too much of a coincidence with your dreams."
"Maybe they just wanted to kill me," Harry mumbled.
Bella pulled her face away from above his shoulders and stared into his eyes. "If their goal was to kill you, the person could have done it at any point in time; whoever put your name in has been in Hogwarts. You have a lot of enemies, Harry. People who remain angry about their master's death."
"So it could be anyone, huh?"
"You need to stop being so trusting."
Harry held her still. His green eyes were blazing. "And the Slytherin girl?" he asked. "Should I trust her?"
Bella's gaze didn't falter. "If I wanted you dead, trust me; you'd be dead."
Bella couldn't hold his eyes any longer. Butterflies were starting to flutter low in her tummy. She pushed away from him, then walked out the entrance and didn't stop even when she felt snowfall pepper her bare shoulders. By the time Bella looked up to establish where she was, she hurriedly stepped behind the first thing she could see— a stone wall that separated her from the not so empty quad courtyard.
"It's a sign, Severus!"
Bella jumped when she heard a crunch from a footfall in the snow beside her. It was Harry; he was staring at her oddly. She grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him behind her and along the wall.
"What are we doing here, exactly?" Harry whispered from behind her.
"Shush!" Bella hissed.
"What was that?" Karkaroff said worriedly.
There was crunching in the snow as they walked around, then it was silent.
"Nothing," Snape spat. Their voices were dangerously close now. "Suffering from your imagination once again, Igor."
"Don't play dumb with me! You ran too. You don't want him back, I know it!"
"What is it you want from me?" Snape asked.
"I want you to agree with me. You know the signs. The mark— look!"
Bella couldn't help herself. She held a palm on Harry's chest to stop him from following her, then risked a peek. The Dark Mark was no longer a faint whisper on his rough skin. It was no longer translucent. The snake and skull were pulsing and writhing. Bella's heart started to beat in her ears as she pulled her head back around the safety of the wall.
"What is it you want from me?"
"Are you staying?"
"Yes," Snape said, after a pause.
"I'm going to run after the tournament, Severus. Please, I beg of you. Don't speak a word to anyone."
"I'll hold them off for as long as I can, Igor. But the Dark Lord, through his subjects, will never stop looking for you."
"I'll be gone, Severus. You'll never see me again."
"Begone, Igor."
A set of footsteps led away from them. Bella pulled Harry away from the scene as quickly as she could without making noise. They were almost back to the stairs when she heard it— the sound of footsteps trudging through the snow in their direction. Bella panicked— she did the first thing she could think of that could possibly put them there in their current situation. She looped her arms around Harry's neck and hugged him forcefully.
Just as Harry's arms were encircling her waist, there was a pained yell from behind them. "Potter! Unhand her this instant!"
Bella raised a hand and pushed him back hard, making his arms slip from around her waist. She turned to Snape. "Professor Snape!" she exclaimed, acting dumb.
Snape raised his wand and walked threateningly towards Harry, not stopping till his wand poked his neck. Harry didn't react, choosing to stare at Snape dumbly. "One— one thousand points from Gryffindor, Potter! How dare you molest one of my Slytherins!"
Bella cleared her throat. Snape turned his murderous gaze towards her. "We're so sorry, Professor Snape. We thought we were alone."
Snape's arm fell back to his side. It took every fibre of her being to not laugh at the dumbfounded look on his face. "You— you?"
"Yes, Professor. I was a willing participant in the matter. I think— I think I even hugged him."
Snape frowned. He looked between them so many times Bella thought he may get dizzy. Then, his eyes finally rested on Bella's. They were narrowed in suspicion. "Why?"
Bella couldn't help it. Meddling with Snape would now forever be her favourite pastime. "He's my best friend, Professor."
But he didn't frown. The flabbergasted look didn't grace his features again. He pulled back, standing on his heels, then studied her thoughtfully. Then, he picked up the front of his robes and walked up the same set of stairs they had descended, not sparing them a second glance. Bella frowned at his departure.
"Did you hear all of that, Harry?"
"What?" Harry asked, turning towards her. "Uh… yeah. So Snape was a Death Eater after all."
Bella's cheeks burned. "I'm sorry for that, by the way. It's the only thing I could think of that would serve as a reasonable excuse for us eavesdropping."
"Hmm?" Harry asked. "Oh… right, yeah. Of course… good thinking."
"Do you believe me now, Harry?"
"'Bout what?" Harry asked.
"About the Dark Lord."
The haze over Harry's eyes vanished. "Say his name."
"What?" Bella asked, frowning at him.
"Say his name," he demanded.
A shiver ran down her body and settled at the base of her spine. "You Know Who?" Bella said weakly.
"No. His true name. Say it. Voldemort."
Bella outwardly shivered, though it wasn't from the cold. "V-v-vol-voldemort," she said meekly.
"Say it, Bella. He's back; I believe you. Do not fear his name— it's what he wants."
"Voldemort," she whispered.
"Say it, Bella."
"Voldemort."
A snippet from Chapter 14 of ARAT:
"And why's that?" Harry asked harshly. "You got something to admit to, Nott?"
Theodore didn't even glance at him. "But everything's changed since you got here. I don't know how you've done it, but Zabini was right. You've loosened Malfoy, you've loosened the house lines… and you've even loosened Potter."
"Yeah?" Harry said angrily. Bella hit his arm, but he ignored her. "What that's supposed to mean, then?"
"You think the saviour of the light would kill a dragon?" Theodore asked, shifting his gaze to Harry. "That poor mother died; did you know?"
Tracey scoffed. "Rubbish. It was a flesh wound."
"Did you know that your girlfriend can cast unforgivables, Potter?" Theodore asked, ignoring her. "I've noticed you've lost all communication with your mudblood gang."
"Don't call them mudbloods," Harry said harshly.
"He's baiting you. Shut up," Bella whispered.
"I'm curious. Who told you to slice its eye open?"
"I did what anyone would have done in the same situation."
"No," Theodore said matter of factly. "Another person would have simply walked around a blind dragon and got the egg. A Slytherin would have cast a cutting curse at its eye. Which leads me to believe it was a Slytherin girl whispering in your ear."
"He's baiting you!" Bella yelled frustratedly.
"We all know who it was. The whole school knows who it was." The first hints of emotion crossed Theodores face— determination. He raised a finger at Bella. "It was Bella, wasn't it?"
Theodore didn't react to Harry's suddenly raised wand; instead showing his open palms and splaying them out beside him. Bella turned to Harry to reprimand him, but the words died on her lips.